Missing someone can kind of suck, because even though you can’t see them, you can’t escape thinking about them. Songs, buildings, memories. They follow you. Sometimes they tease, but not always.
But how sweet is the reunion?
That first glimpse of them, then the recognition when you realise it’s actually them, and not a figment of your imagination. It’s not wishful thinking, it’s your life. Then come the smiles, the hugs, the how-are-you, yes-I’m-good, you-look-great, I-missed-you.
I. Missed. You.
Some people you can have a reunion with, and suddenly everything is good again. Other people you see again, but you still manage to miss. You can no longer share what you used to, you can no longer say the things you used to. You know that if you told them you missed them, it would be a hit and miss, resulting in less conversation than before.
I saw my parents for the first time since December, and it was the good kind of reunion. The kind of reunion that makes missing them sort of worth it, because you remember, in person, exactly what it was you were missing in the first place.
I hope those you’re missing miss you to,